


talkin' about

by devulent



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devulent/pseuds/devulent
Summary: Absolutely no one could get under MJ’s skin the way Peter Parker does. There was a particularly frustrating way that the love of her life managed to absolutely piss her off sometimes. If only he didn’t make those damn eyes at her when she raised her voice...Or, the two times MJ yelled at Peter, and the one time he yells at her.





	1. anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> So I haven't written fan fiction in awhile and by awhile, I mean it's been like six years. I used to write often and then I got to college and just stopped and haven't written much. So please, be easy on me and leave any comments and critiques. It hasn't been beta read so if there's any mistakes that I haven't caught and fixed on my own, I apologize. 
> 
> Take this and enjoy :)

The water burned as it flowed over MJ’s hands.

Hands that tightly grip a sponge as they angrily scrub away at the pan. She muttered unintelligibly under her breath as her hands worked away at the cooked on bits. Her breath hitched as her hands finally recognized how hot the water had actually gotten and she dropped the pan into the water, unintentionally splashing herself in the process. “_ Fuck _!”

Her hands moved to cut the water off and she grabbed the edge of the counter, closing her eyes and talking softly to herself as she forced herself to breathe. She wasn’t mad. She was mad two hours ago when the dinner she cooked grew cold and the screen on her phone sat black. She was mad when she was taking off the new lingerie set she spent an hour shopping for earlier that week and putting on the ratty pajamas she normally wore to bed each night. She was mad as her Facebook timeline filled with messages of congratulations for her five year anniversary while she still hadn’t heard from the person who was actually in the fucking relationship with her. Now as the clock hit midnight and she poured her third glass of wine, she wasn’t mad at all. She was _ pissed _.

The wind picked up outside of her window and she could hear the rustling of him approaching. The paint cans she’d left sitting out (despite Peter asking her continuously to throw them away so he could stop landing on them) clanged around on the metal flooring of the fire escape. 

He was home. 

Outside, Peter cursed under his breath as he bent over, quickly picking up the cans he’d clumsily knocked over. His intentions were to arrive as quietly as possible, with his fingers crossed that MJ would be asleep by the time he made it in even though he knew she waited for him to come home every night. He scanned the bedroom through the glass and noticed the bed was still made and empty. He could hear her labored breathing in the kitchen. She was mad. 

Peter wasn’t necessarily scared of MJ, but he knew well enough to steer clear of his girlfriend whenever she was upset. He had been yelled at enough times and ducked enough angrily tossed pillows to know how much of a loose cannon she could be if he didn’t tread lightly.

They both stood in their places quietly, neither moving as they waited for the other to make the first move. The bedroom window creaked open as he slipped inside and she grabbed her glass, downing the rest of the wine as silence continued to coat their small apartment. Peter stalled in the bedroom as he changed clothes, trying to think about how he was going to talk his way out of this one. 

More silence. 

She gritted her teeth as she waited in the kitchen. Time seemed to drag by as she leaned against the counter, waiting for her boyfriend to announce himself. The doorknob on the bedroom door fidgeted and he slipped out, glancing at her with a nervous smile.

“Hey MJ...”

She cut her eyes at him, not moving from where she stood. Her grip on the glass in her hand tightened. He visibly swallows hard. “Happy anniversa--”

“Where the _ hell _ have you been, Peter?”

He froze momentarily. “The neighbors are still up. I totally understand if you’re upset, but they can hear--”

“Fuck the neighbors,” she exclaimed, moving from her spot in the kitchen over to where he stood in the living room. “I don’t care who’s listening. All I care about right now is the fact that you’ve been missing all day and didn’t reach out once! I was worried sick, Peter.” 

“Michelle, I’m sorry…”

“No! You aren’t sorry, Peter!” Her hands ran through her hair, frustratedly tugging her messy curls. “Maybe when you would’ve been just thirty minutes late, maybe you would’ve been sorry. Air traffic, helping an old lady across the street, casual things, I get it. But Peter it is after midnight and our anniversary is _ over _ . You left me alone in the house on our anniversary all fucking day and didn’t even call me _ once _.” 

Peter recoiled into himself, staring at the ground with guilt as she continued on. “Peter, I am so fucking upset with you. I just...where _ were _ you?” 

“I, um….I--” His face flushed red as he stammered his way through his words and he stared down at his hands, avoiding looking up at her.

“Answer my fucking question, Peter or I swear to God...”

“I was in, um, M-mexico. There was a threat detected and it seemed important when Mr. Fury called me last night, so I thought--” 

“You were in MEXICO?!” Disbelief covered her voice as she cut him off mid-sentence.

“It was tied to the Chitauri weapons and I had insight so--”

“So you just leave your girlfriend in the house waiting for you all day on your anniversary and not even think to reach out?! You couldn’t text me and let me know?” She wasn’t even pissed anymore. She was fucking furious.

“I--”

“And don’t act like you didn’t have wifi. I know Stark Industries has fucking wifi on that dumbass jet.”

Silence sat between them as MJ waited for him to answer her.

“I forgot.”

There it is. A chuckle slipped out her mouth and she tapped her fingers on the glass, shutting her eyes and willing herself to breathe. It wasn’t like Peter to forget at all. It was actually MJ who entirely forgot their first anniversary; she stood confused as hell as she stared at May’s apartment floor decorated with candles and rose petals. _ “What the hell is all this for?” _ she’d asked, dropping her bookbag by the door as Peter smiled nervously and extended his arm to her, offering her a cup of the sparkling grape juice May picked up for him earlier that day. _ “Happy anniversary, MJ.” _

No, Peter remembered dates. He remembered everything. Peter even remembered the things MJ should’ve remembered yet forgotten about, from the insignificant things she mentioned liking down to the doctor’s appointments she would schedule and not write down.

MJ already knew about the Chitauri situation in Mexico. She didn’t know he’d blow her off to go run behind the Avengers. Peter was so fixated on it all week, he wouldn’t have eaten if she didn’t remind him. The glow of his laptop forced her to sleep with the covers over her head as he sat up in bed way past his usual bedtime for the past few days going over intel. He brushed it off whenever she asked him what had his attention, but she knew her boyfriend. Whenever things are normal, Peter is her Peter. He’s the Peter who remembers anniversaries and sends apologies via text when he thinks he’s going to get home five minutes later than usual. When danger is imminent? He turns into a stressed, bumbling idiot who can’t clear his mind long enough to fucking breathe. She heard the phone call in the middle of the night from Fury suggesting he come to the Avengers compound. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep when he pressed a kiss to her forehead and quietly slipped out the window. She woke up alone. 

MJ forced a calming breath before she spoke. “You can’t get so caught up in Avengers stuff that you forget the important things. It’s unfair to me.”

“I know and I’m so sorry and I promise I’ll make it up to you. MJ, the team needed me and I couldn’t just leave them hang--”

“Peter, _ I _ need you.” Her eyes flashed angrily to lock with his, her voice raising again. “Our _ relationship _ needs you. Be an Avenger all fucking year if you want, I could fucking care less, but sometimes you need to just say no to them, Peter. You missed our whole anniversary and it hurts me that you couldn’t pick me just this one time.” She was trying so hard not to cry and failing miserably as her hands worked continuously to wipe her eyes dry. “I’m so tired of having to share you all the time and you put me last _ every single time _ . You keep forgetting that you’re the only one who’s a superhero in this relationship. I’m only human. I don’t spend my days swinging around the city and helping people. I get to sit in here alone on this _ stupid _ fucking couch and wait for you to come home. I’m a human girl so sickeningly in love with you and I just need some reassurance that I’m not all in on this thing alone.”

She paused to let out a shaky breath, then broke their eye contact as she moved back to the kitchen to grab the remaining merlot that waited in the bottle. “I’m going to bed. There’s a plate on the stove for you. I’ll see you in the morning. 

Peter held his breath as she walked past him without even throwing a glance in his direction. “I love you, Em.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”


	2. negative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe this is explicit.
> 
> I really didn't mean to, I just...I went overboard. A bit. Maybe. Just a little.
> 
> Don't read this one at work, friends.

The room was pitch black as Peter slipped quietly inside the window. 

A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table revealed that the time was well after midnight and MJ’s body lay motionless in bed, curled up and tangled in their sheets. The silence in the room was comforting after his busy night downtown, only slightly rivaled by MJ’s heavy breathing. Peter’s hand silently slapped against his chest and he let his suit slacken to the floor, quietly stepping out of it before moving into their small, attached bathroom. Once the door was closed, he switched the light on and leaned against the door, breathing out heavily. 

His night had been long and honestly, inconvenient. Minutes before he was pulled away to deal with the inevitable troubles of the city, Peter laid on the bed, lazily tracing circles around the soft brown areolas on MJ’s breasts. She giggled, her fingers playfully tugging at his hair as she laid comfortably against their headboard, eyes closed in absolute bliss. It was an unusual night in for them and—until they were rudely interrupted—an unusually quiet night in the city. MJ had a study session cancelled on her and arrived home rather early, in time to fix the mess of spaghetti Peter was attempting to fix himself. It was the first time in almost two weeks that they were both home for dinner and the quality time was understatedly needed. Excited about the rare time together and honestly just happy that things seemed to be back to normal, she didn’t protest when Peter grabbed the bottle of cognac from the top cabinet. 

“So what, I get drunk and you get to take advantage of me?” She teased as she took the shot glass from him. He laughed, pouring his own shot. “Only if you want me to.”

A few shots later, they were sprawled across the bed, MJ, warm, red and whimpering as her shirt sat bunched up around her neck while Peter moved from breast to breast. He groaned sitting up as Karen began incessantly beeping from inside the closet. “Are you serious, Karen? Now?”

MJ let a sigh slip from her lips and dropped her head back on the pillows. “God forbid New York let me fuck my boyfriend before the sun goes down for once.”

They both dressed quietly, her into some pajamas and him into his suit as they listened to Karen read details of the ongoing breakin at the MoMA. “Sounds like it’s gonna be an annoying night,” he muttered, stalling at the window. She stood from the bed and moved over to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes shifted up to hers and he mischievously smiled. “You gonna stay up for me?”

She playfully rolled her eyes and walked back over to the bed. “He gets me drunk, leaves me alone, and _ still _ expects me to stay up for him. Keep your hands to yourself when you get home, Parker.”

They both knew he wouldn’t and shortly after showering the dirt and grime off, he was slipping under the sheets with her, pressing himself against MJ’s body. She stirred as he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her tighter into him. “Peter?”

“Yeah…” he whispered back, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. His hand curiously drifted from around her waist to under her shirt. He found one of her nipples and began lazily tugging and rolling it between his fingers. A groan slipped out of her lips. 

“I’m sleeping, Peter.”

He chuckled and murmured dismissively, letting his other hand sneak under her waistband. His hand easily found her clit and started to gently stroke the nub to life. Her head fell back and his lips latched onto the smooth caramel stretch of her neck, gently nipping and languidly stroking his tongue over the skin there. 

“I want to sleep…” The words slipped out of her mouth in a drunken mumble, yet she spread her legs wider for him, allowing him to slip a finger between her folds, already feeling her slick juices coating his finger. “Peter.”

She cried out, vocally coming back to life as he dipped another finger inside of her and curled them up, rubbing roughly at the spongy walls. Peter’s leg worked his way under hers and lifted up, forcing her legs wide open as he worked his fingers quickly inside her. She felt the warmth building between her legs as he worked her body to life. 

He pressed a kiss to her neck, craning up to whisper in her ear. “Let me finish making you feel good. I wanna feel you.”

She sighed aloud, placing her hand over his as it continued to tease her nipple. “Make it quick, loser.”

“Don’t tell me twice.” With the stupidest grin on his face, Peter rolled on top of her, hooking his fingers under her waistband and tugging down both her pajama pants and panties in one swipe. “Up…” he whispered, pulling her pelvis up towards the sky while she moved her knees and arms into position, bracing herself as he began to line up behind her. 

She breathed in sharply as he ran the head between her lips, collecting her juices on his glands. He rubbed his hand down his shaft, hypnotically staring as he rubbed her wetness over his flesh. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, focused on the tantalizing sight of her opening up to accept his length inside her. 

A gasp escaped MJ’s lips and her hands reached up to grab the sheets as she felt him moving inside her. 

“Fuck,” his brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth together as MJ’s folds gripped him tightly as he continued to inch deeper inside of her. “_ This… _ ” he thought to himself, still feeling the same way he did years ago when they fumbled around his twin size bed one evening while May was out late trying to fix themselves in this same position, amazed that he was even inside of someone and that someone was MJ and it felt like nothing he ever thought it would, “... _ is fucking awesome. _”

He grunted, running his hand down her arched back to reach under her neck and pull her up towards him. “Peter!” she cried out as the angle shifted and she felt him thrusting deeply into her. She whimpered as he suckled on her neck. Her skin was so soft. He dragged his lips down her shoulder and gently lowered her back down, pressing his hand into the small of her back and forcing her to arch deeper. Her skin was _ really _ soft. Too soft. He felt each of his fingers melting into her as they slid up and down her thighs, squeezing her butt as the flesh jiggled hypnotically each time his pelvis slapped against her. Oh god.

His eyes squeezed shut, his head shaking off the distracting thoughts as he firmly gripped her hips and continuously pulled her back towards him as he began to pump furiously into her. Her walls squeezed around him and he could feel the spongy folds pumping, milking him as her muscles contracted sporadically. Her moans distracted him, her musky smell danced around his nose. He felt his senses turning off one by one until there was nothing left but Michelle. His brow furrowed as he slowly lost concentration, slowly lost control. _ Oh god... _

Her hand reached back and grabbed his arm and she cried out his name into the silence. And he just..._ fuck _. 

MJ’s eyes shot open as he stiffened over her, his grip on her hip becoming uncomfortably tight. “Peter?”

His eyes slowly opened in horror as he slowly came back into consciousness. He—_ oh no. _ He breathed slowly, carefully as he slowly pulled his limp flesh out of her and as sure as it happened, the telltale fluids dripped out of her onto the sheet. Oh no, no, no, no, no….. 

“Peter, tell me you did not just come inside of me.” 

He couldn’t speak. His eyes dragged from the wet spot on the sheets up to her slit, glistening with their combined juices. “Em, I-I…”

“Are you serious? Are you _ fucking _ serious?!”

His face burned red as she scrambled off the bed and stumbled in the bathroom, her hand cupping between her legs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the _ fuck _, Peter?!”

He eased himself off the bed, grabbing his sweats and quickly pulled them up his legs before following her into the bathroom. He found her on the toilet, her hands covering her face as she mumbled to herself. Gone were the awkward encounters from when they first moved in together, embarrassingly slamming the door after walking in on each other on the toilet. Only months later would MJ find herself enjoying her morning pee, scrolling through her Twitter timeline as Peter brushed his teeth at the sink beside her. There was no embarrassment as Peter walked over to sit next to her on the edge of the tub. “Michelle?”

She lowered her hands to look at him and he instantly felt guilty as he took in her watery, red eyes. “I’d punch you right now, but I know it won’t hurt.” She paused, then moved her hands back to cover her face. 

“I-I don’t know what happened, Em. I’m so sorry, I just...got distracted, I guess but I didn’t mean to—“

“I’m not on birth control right now, Peter.”

His eyes widened. “B-but I thought you were on the pill—“

“I missed my appointment and haven’t been able to renew my prescription. It’s been two weeks. I was gonna go on Thursday.”

Shit. 

They’d definitely had slip ups before but never like this. A few broken condoms, miscalculated periods and their teenage discovery of pre-cum had them at the bodega as early as sunrise, hoodies pulled halfway over their faces as they awkwardly paid for pregnancy tests more times than Peter would have liked to admit but they always got lucky. “_ Congrats, you’re not a dad _,” MJ would relivededly announce as she’d drop the stick in the trash can. By the time they got to college, she was taking her birth control regularly, he’d seemingly mastered the pull out method and a pregnancy scare was the last thing on their mind. 

“You gotta go buy a Plan B,” she announced, breaking almost five minutes of silence. 

“Like...right now?” He knew it was a dumb question the second he finished asking it, but it wasn’t the first mistake he made that night and probably wouldn’t be the last. 

She cut her eyes at him and he shrunk under her scrutinizing stare. “Ye-what? Peter, yes, right now. What are you talking about?”

Still fatigued from his night on the streets, yet not exactly eager to stay in the apartment with MJ after majorly killing the mood, he soon found himself swinging to the nearest drugstore. “Oh, alright, Spidey,” the young cashier chuckled, dropping the Plan B box, along with a few cheap pregnancy tests into a plastic bag. “Teach me how to be like you, playboy.”

Peter sighed beneath the mask and grabbed the bag. “Wear condoms.”

•••

MJ breathed a sigh of relief and passed the plastic stick over to Peter. “No tiny arachnids any time soon.”

Almost three weeks had passed since their slip up and with the Plan B throwing MJ’s menstruales off schedule, the couple found themselves on the toilet twice a week, peeing on sticks and assuring the slip up stayed just a slip up. Almost six tests later, Michelle was finally content with her answer and Peter was...Peter was tired. 

“Would it really have been that bad?” He questioned as MJ moves over to the sink to wash her hands. She chuckled, cutting the water on and beginning to lather her hands with soap. “A baby? _Right now_? Peter, absolutely. You’re not ready to be a parent.”

His brow furrowed. “_Me_? I’m sure I want kids more than you.”

MJ cut off the water and grabbed a towel, leaning against the door to look at him. “And I’m sure I’m more available to parent than you are, Spider-Man. I’ll get over you leaving my birthday party to go fight crime, I don’t think a two year old would.”

He raised his hand to his chest, dramatically grabbing his chest. “Ouch, that hurt. I’m not that bad.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

"Are."

"Em, I'm not."

“We’re not doing this.”

“Michelle,” he leaned in, locking eyes with her. “I promise, I’m not that bad.”

“Need I bring up our anniversary?” She asked, opening the door and moving into the bedroom. Peter stood from the edge of the tub and began to follow her as she threw out more dates. “Ned’s birthday party, our housewarming, lunch last week...”

“Hey, you said you didn’t even like that restaurant.”

“Not the point, Peter.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. But even then, on a usual, I’m gone for like, what? An hour at most? They wouldn’t even notice I was gone. Honestly, you know what I think,” he plopped on the bed, watching as she stood in front of their dresser, beginning to wrap her hair and pinning the stray strands. “I think you’re afraid to be a parent.”

“Peter…”

“Admit it, Em,” he teased, falling back on the bed and beginning to toss the pillow around. “You just _ hate _ the idea of little Spiderboys and Spidergirls running around the house, webs all over the place, jumping from wall to wall—”

“Peter, I’m afraid of you _ DYING _.”

He immediately sat up on the bed, noticing her eyes beginning to water. “Em, I—“

“I’m not built to be a single mom, Peter and you just...you leave without telling me, you throw yourself in these dangerous situations, you don’t call me, I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t _ deal _ with a toddler asking me when daddy’s coming home and I don’t even fucking know.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. Peter had already crossed the room over to her and cautiously wrapped his arms around her, not sure exactly if she was aggravated or actually upset. “I need you to be around more if we’re gonna entertain that thought. You can’t get me pregnant then run off to fucking Mexico without telling me. I just…I don’t want to even think about it until you’re ready to take a little time off. It’s not fair to them and it’s not fair to us. As a family.”

“We don’t have to think about it,” he murmured, pressing his lips softly against her shoulder. “They’re not coming anytime soon.” Babies could wait. They had much further to go as a couple, many more years before they could even think about starting a family. May began to tease the question, but they knew what was best for them. Right now, it was just Peter and Michelle. 

She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know they’re not here yet but you gotta promise...Peter you can’t leave me alone with some _ fucking _ kids.”

He dropped his head back, laughing. “Em, I promise.” 


End file.
